


The View From Here

by Littlebiscuits



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 03:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14633034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlebiscuits/pseuds/Littlebiscuits
Summary: "You really want me to get caught with my pants down?" Rook asks the beer.





	The View From Here

" _Rook, Rook, where the hell are you?_ "

Rook flails an arm out, trying to find where he dropped the radio. He eventually discovers it on top of a backpack he'd been poking through, the same one he'd propped his rifle against.

"Hey, I'm here, what do you need?" He realises that's not exactly radio etiquette, but in his defence he's been drinking.

" _Where are you_?" the radio asks him, or rather Nick asks him through the radio. " _We hadn't heard from you all day_." Rook can hear familiar voices in the background, so he suspects they've all joined up somewhere in range. The marina maybe?

Rook hits the button on the radio and looks up.

"I am currently inside Joseph Seed."

The radio makes a clicky noise, and someone snorts laughter, probably Sharky.

"And by that I mean, of course, his big giant statue and not -" Rook stops and looks at the bottle he's also holding, which is more than half empty. "I'm sorry, I may be a little drunk."

" _What the hell are you doing getting drunk alone in that thing_." Nick actually sounds worried for him. " _You're going to get your head blown off by the assholes guarding it._ "

"I'm not alone, I have Boomer. Oh, and the guards are all dead, seriously, they have no night vision for shit. No one spotted me, so I don't think anyone knows I'm here." 

Rook is officially a party of one. 

There's no reply from the other end for a minute, but Rook can hear intense whispering. Everyone always seems so surprised by his ability to find a problem and them throw himself against it until it goes away. That's always been a talent of his. A reckless, occasionally stupid talent, but a talent nonetheless.

" _Still, you think getting drunk there was the best idea_?" Grace has such a smooth, serious voice. 

"It's not like I brought the beer with me," Rook explains. "I found it. And considering these guys aren't supposed to drink, there was a shitload of beer in here. Literally right under Joseph's nose. I would report them, but they're all dead."

Rook leans down until he can see out of the door. Boomer is currently scratching himself on the grass, so he figures he's all good. The radio says something Rook doesn't catch, and he gets the impression it's either being passed around or quietly fought over.

" _What, liberating beer is a good thing,_ " Hurk complains loudly, to someone who clearly isn't Rook.

" _Yeah, but we know what happens when Rook gets drunk._ " That voice is too far away and muffled to make out the identity of. " _He makes stupid decisions._ "

Rook's going to let that one slide, mostly because it's true.

The radio crackles into silence

"Seriously who builds a giant statue of themselves anyway?" Rook wonders aloud into it. "Who commissions a giant statue of themself? Who thinks that's a sensible idea? I mean after you're dead, sure, if you were super famous, or you saved the planet from, like, asteroids or something. I'd maybe - probably - allow it. But this is too much. This is a man who _really_ wants someone to notice him. It's almost upsetting. "

" _I think you're more than a little drunk, my friend_ ," Sharky says, and that sounds like an expert opinion.

"No, but seriously who did build this thing?" Rook asks again, because he's genuinely curious now. Giant, building-sized statues couldn't just go up without people at least filling in a form or something.

_"Contractors and Eden's Gate faithful, it was built fast and cheap, so it'd probably come down fast and easy, if you were taking suggestions."_ Grace's suggestions always seem to line up pretty well with Rook's own. She's a practical woman.

"Yeah, I'm probably going to blow it up when I'm done," Rook decides. Because that sounds like a good idea.

" _Don't blow yourself up as well_." Grace makes it sound like he does it all the time. When it was really just once, and it was only a very small explosion.

" _Yeah, don't let the beer do the talking for you, that never ends well,_ " Nick adds.

"I shall override any orders that the beer gives," Rook promises. He's trying to be reassuring, because he knows that sometimes when he's been drinking he has ideas that maybe aren't the best, or the most sensible, in hindsight. But everything is going to be fine. Everything is almost always fine.

The giant statue has to go though.

Because the thing about Joseph Seed, is that he's really fucking intense, and every time Rook sees him he gets that intensity just shoved in his general direction. It's very difficult to try and liberate a county when the man you're going up against treats you like a favourite child who's just acting out, and if you'd just listen for five minutes, and maybe come inside for a spanking - Rook pauses with his beer half way to his mouth.

That thought might have gone to an unhelpful place.

And then there's all the touching. It doesn't help that Joseph Seed touches people like no one ever told him not to. He touches people like he doesn't know how to connect to people without physically pulling them into his personal space. Rook is not used to random people touching him. He's a handful of inches over six foot, and mostly people just sort of pat the general area around him. Which is unfair, because Rook has never murdered anyone that didn't deserve it. He's never spontaneously murdered anyone at all.

But, no, Joseph Seed, with his intensity and his touching, always seems to show up when Rook is full of adrenaline and bleeding, and he keeps talking as if they have a destiny or something. It's like he was just waiting for Rook to come here and start breaking all of his stuff. Or like they spent months fucking, and then had a weird break-up that Joseph never quite got over - though Rook thinks that last one might be the beer talking.

The statue doesn't really get any of that across. It doesn't give you an appropriate warning for when you actually meet him in the naked, tattooed flesh and realise how many ways you're screwed. Of course by then you might be hallucinating, half-brainwashed, drunk and have had 'Wrath' tattooed on your chest by the second craziest person in the county. So your opinion might be a little biased. Joseph Seed is not...ok, maybe he is, if you looked at him sideways, and sort of squinted away some of the crazy. But that's not the point, the point is, you listen to the man for two minutes and realise that he's completely fucking crazy, and nothing he says makes any sense and everything around him is probably going to catch fire. But then you realise that you're _still listening_.

All arguments aside - Rook was making arguments, right? All arguments aside, everyone knows you don't stick your dick in crazy, even if crazy is intense and kind of hot. Even if that crazy was actually chosen by God, probably especially not then actually. No fucking with people on divine missions should be some sort of bare minimum.

Besides Joseph probably wouldn't stop talking long enough. You'd have to put a hand over his mouth, or gag him or something.

And...that is definitely not helping.

"I am not masturbating inside a giant statue of a crazy person," he tells the remains of his beer.

The beer stares at him encouragingly.

"No, you're not changing my mind," he insists. 

Rook has another one anyway, because hearing the other side of an argument is always polite.

"You really want me to get caught with my pants down?" he asks the beer.

_"Boomer's outside, he'll let you know if anyone comes,"_ the beer says.

Rook is starting to think maybe someone has been putting Bliss in the beer. And isn't that a thought that he shouldn't be having after drinking so much of it. Still, the beer has a point.

"Fine, fuck it." Rook unbuckles and tugs his belt open, unzips - wonders if he should be rethinking at least half of his life choices for the last few weeks. He spends a few seconds kidding himself that he's going to be thinking of anyone else, before accepting the inevitable. Fine, Joseph Seed it is, the bastard deserves it, he's put Rook through enough.

He frees himself from his underwear, and it does feel a little scandalous to be palming his dick in a big giant statue, but he reminds himself that's the point. That's the damn point.

Rook wonders if anyone has ever thought about going down on Joseph, while he's been raving like a madman. Just dropped to their knees, snapped his pants open and taken him all the way down. Rook's changed his mind, fuck it, let Joseph Seed talk, Rook can listen to his apocalyptic nonsense fall to pieces, all shaken and fucking breathless. Joseph could take those fingers he's always pointing at him, and dig them in Rook's hair instead. Rook might not even complain about it.

Or maybe Rook would ease back and make Joseph touch himself, drag down that threaded wrist and wrap his own fingers round his dick. See how conflicted he was about his own sin then.

Fuck.

Ok.

That works.

_"Are you jerking off in Joseph Seed's big giant statue?"_

"Fuck!"

Rook rolls his head sideways and glares at the radio. This is more multitasking than he really wants to deal with right now.

He smacks the button with the back of his hand, squeezes his impatient dick with the other, and resists the urge to ask how the fuck Sharky could possibly have known that.

"Can we talk about this later?" he says instead, he likes to think that comes out perfectly naturally.

" _That's a yes_ ," Hurk mutters from the background. 

And now people are judging him, he can hear it. Rook can hear the judgement.

"If you'll all excuse me, I'm -" Rook bites down on his own amusement as a thought occurs to him. But he can't help it, he's more than a little drunk, and he can't help it. "I'm trying to have a religious experience here."

There's a wet, distressed noise down the radio that sounds like someone choking to death on a beer. Someone says his name, draws it out, vaguely scandalised. And someone else is definitely laughing. Rook doesn't even care. He doesn't hear what comes afterwards, because he tosses the radio inside a weapons crate.

Now, if the world could possibly stop exploding and requiring his attention for ten minutes, Rook thinks he's probably overdue for some personal time. Some personal time to get slightly drunk on possibly contaminated beer, and jerk off while thinking about people he probably shouldn't. He spits in his hand, shoves his jeans further down his thighs, and fuck, yes, that is so much better.

He thinks about Joseph Seed lifting both hands to be cuffed.

Joseph Seed braced over him in a field full of Bliss, bare-chested and angry as hell, shoving open Rook's thighs.

Joseph Seed on his fucking knees -

Eventually it's just a messy collection of images, because Rook's brain can't manage anything else, and he has to get both hands on himself.

Long stretches of tattooed chest.

The narrow edges of tan hips.

Joseph Seed saying _fuck_ in that soft, breathy voice of his, while Rook pushes into him, over and over.

Then it's just the filthy equivalent of white noise for a long minute, and Rook's chasing the edge in quick, impatient, pulls. Until there's just the wet, clenching drag of his own orgasm, twisting and so fucking good. 

It leaves Rook sprawled in a pile of magazines and screwed up Eden's Gate flags, staring upwards. The inside of the big giant statue has a pretty amazing acoustics. Rook listens to his own drawn-out groan echo back at him from inside of it.

He cleans himself off, and zips his jeans back up. The magazine/flag combination is actually pretty comfortable. If Rook's not careful he's going to end up taking an unexpected nap.

But he does have an awesome guard dog, so it's probably ok.

So, maybe five minutes.


End file.
